


You Can't Reach Me Where I've Gone To

by myfairyqueenie



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: All of my works are just me projecting the types of friends I wish I had lol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, But I'll always write a happy ending, But his friends are the best, Fluff, Gen, I am a whore for angst, Platonic Soulmates, Poor Roger is going through some shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfairyqueenie/pseuds/myfairyqueenie
Summary: “You can tell me anything, Rog.” Freddie said quietly, giving his friend what he hoped was a reassuring smile.Roger looked away then, staring at the wall across the room for a few seconds, seemingly having an internal debate. Finally, he spoke.“It was my dad.”Freddie frowned. Roger never talked about his dad, only dismissing anyone who ever asked with “he can barely be called a man, let alone a father.”*Or, Roger has some secrets about his home life that he's never told anyone about until now. But he has three best friends who are more than happy to become his new family.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	You Can't Reach Me Where I've Gone To

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back at it again with another angst/comfort fanfic! This one is a little bit darker than my previous works - there is some mention of domestic violence so read with caution. It's not extremely graphic but it's definitely there - please take care of yourself and don't read this if it's possibly triggering! Anyway, we have a Roger-centered story this time; he barely talks about his past but I know he's briefly brought up experiencing domestic violence so that's where I got the idea from. Title is lyrics from Roger's song "Surrender" that he released with his band The Cross. Feedback is appreciated but plsss be nice ofc! Lots of love <3

Snow was coming down steadily outside, but inside the flat was warm and cozy, a soft glow of orange and yellow. It was peaceful; Freddie was sketching new designs for the band, his feet in Brian’s lap, who was reading on the couch, while John gently strummed his bass, humming random songs. Roger wasn’t there - he had been gone for the past couple days to see his family for the holidays. So when the door flew open and a red faced Roger stormed in, everyone jumped and looked up in surprise.  
“Rog-” Brian started before cutting himself off, shocked at the sight before him. He heard Freddie’s gasp and John’s quiet but stunned voice say, “Roger, what _happened_ to you?”  
Roger was staring at them, pieces of snow falling out of his blonde locks, shaking from cold as he was only wearing a light jacket and jeans, but what had stood out to the other three boys was his _very_ prominent black eye and bleeding split lip. Freddie started getting up, concern written all over his face, but Roger backed away, his eyes wild and angry.  
“Leave me the fuck alone, Fred. I can’t be around anyone right now.”  
Freddie froze, taken aback. Roger slammed the door shut and ran to his room.  
They all sat in stunned silence. Seconds later, Roger’s bedroom door banged loudly. A moment passed, then they heard him starting to throw things at the walls, which wasn’t unusual given Roger’s temper.  
But it was different this time.   
Brian flinched hard every time he heard another bang; John, wide eyed, glanced desperately at Freddie, who looked back at him helplessly. A muffled shatter rang out, and Roger started yelling curses as more thuds ensued.  
It seemed to last forever as the three boys stared at each other in shock, speechless, until finally the noises stopped and all they heard was a broken sob.  
“Should we... should someone check on him?” Brian asked, hesitantly, looking from Freddie to John and back to Fred again.  
John looked to Freddie as well, knowing that out of the three of them, he understood Roger the most, and would be able to somewhat help him.  
Freddie nodded and stood up, forcing a strained smile. “I’ll go.”  
With that, he walked down the hall towards his and Roger’s room, leaving Brian and John standing in the living room, unsure of what to do with themselves.  
Freddie got to the door, took a deep breath, and knocked softly. “Rog?”  
No answer.  
Freddie swallowed.   
“Rog, I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”  
Another long pause with no response.  
His chest tightened. Freddie knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away, no matter how upset his friend was. He put his hand on the knob, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.  
It was a sight, to say the least. Random objects were strewn everywhere, books and records and a couple broken pairs of drumsticks, and Freddie internally cringed at the obvious dents in the wall. He almost didn’t see Roger at first, who was curled up in a fetal position on the ground near his bed, quietly crying, tears streaming down his cheeks.  
“Oh Rog, my darling,” Freddie whispered, and immediately rushed to kneel at his side. His hands fluttered over his friend, wanting to do something but knowing that he shouldn’t touch without permission.  
Roger didn’t say anything, just scrunched himself up tighter and covered his face with his hands, appearing to be making an attempt to block out the world.   
Freddie felt his heart break. Roger was so cheerful, always happy and playful; even when his temper flared up, it was never over anything big, and he usually calmed down pretty quickly. This situation scared Freddie, if he was honest with himself, but it wasn’t about him right now. “Can I...can I touch you, dear?”  
He heard Roger take a shuddering breath, but still got nothing out of his friend. Freddie didn’t want him to snap again, but he also didn’t know what else to do. “Roger, please, I need you to tell me something.”  
Finally, Roger looked out from between his fingers. Freddie could see a bit of the black eye peeking out, and it made his stomach turn. Then, he spoke, his voice hoarse and shaky.  
“Yes.”  
Without hesitation, Freddie scooped Roger in his arms, almost cradling him like a small child. At that moment, Freddie felt like Roger really was a small child; and he himself felt the need to protect him as such. To his surprise, Roger immediately clung to him desperately, burying his face in Freddie’s neck, hugging himself as close to Freddie’s warmth as possible.   
Freddie held him tightly, gently rubbing Roger’s back. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Freddie whispered, “What happened, Rog?”  
Roger tensed, and Freddie was about to take back the question when Roger slowly lifted his head from Freddie’s shoulder, giving Freddie a clear look at his face. His black eye was swollen, an ugly combination of dark blues and purples, and it looked even worse with Roger’s reddened eyes from crying. The bleeding had stopped on his split lip, and dried blood was on the skin near his mouth. His long hair was tangled and wild, and his face was flushed with emotion. Freddie gasped softly, and lifted his hand to gently caress Roger’s cheekbone; the blonde leaned into his touch, and Freddie could feel him trembling.  
“You can tell me anything, Rog.” Freddie said quietly, giving his friend what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  
Roger looked away then, staring at the wall across the room for a few seconds, seemingly having an internal debate. Finally, he spoke.  
“It was my dad.”  
Freddie frowned. Roger never talked about his dad, only dismissing anyone who ever asked with “he can barely be called a man, let alone a father.”  
“Your dad?” Freddie prompted. Roger nodded, hair falling in his face. Freddie gently tucked it behind Roger’s ear. Then it all came spilling out in a rush, as if Roger had been holding himself back.  
“You know, I don’t talk about him, he doesn’t deserve that type of attention, and besides, he left when I was younger. He used to...he used to beat my mom, and my sister and I would be so scared, we would hide in our rooms...and I always felt so helpless, and I was so glad when he left for what I thought was for good...and then he came by the house today during our dinner…” Freddie felt a wave of nausea go through him, but he let Roger continue.  
“He was drunk off his ass...and he said he was offended that he hadn’t been invited to dinner to see his kids all grown up...and my mom told him to get out, he wasn’t allowed to be near us...and he...he…” Roger’s voice started shaking. “He hit her, really hard across the face. And I’m not five anymore, I can fight back, and I just got up and started punching him.” Freddie took Roger’s hands then, holding them carefully, noticing the marks on his knuckles for the first time. “And my sister called the police while I did that. He got me back, but not too bad,” Roger said, gesturing to his face, laughing bitterly. “So once they took him away, I just couldn’t be there anymore, couldn’t see my mom’s face bruised up, couldn’t see the terror in my sister’s eyes, so I took a cab back here.” Roger finally made eye contact with Freddie, seeing Freddie’s eyes full of sadness. Roger looked down. “I didn’t mean to just leave them, I was just so scared, I didn’t want them to see me as another version of _him_ because I used violence to protect them--” and with that Roger let out a sob, and started crying again. “I’m sorry Fred, I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m sorry for scaring you and Bri and Deaky, I’m just like my dad, I’m an abuser, I’m--”  
Freddie pulled Roger back closer to him, effectively cutting him off, whispering little “shhh” noises and words of comfort, telling Roger that he was nothing even close to his father, that he did what he had to do to protect his loved ones, that he nor Brian and John were upset with him; only worried if he was okay. Freddie heard a small shuffling sound and glanced up to see Brian and John standing in the doorway, looking heartbroken, and Freddie waved them over, so the two of them carefully sat on the floor next to Freddie and Roger; Brian lifting a hand to pet Roger’s hair, while John leaned his head against Roger’s back and wrapped his arms around him and Freddie.  
Huddled together on the cold hardwood floor, they stayed like this for a long time, reminding their friend how much they loved him, until Roger finally calmed down, and simply sat there, letting himself be caressed and held.   
Eventually, Freddie murmured that his legs were falling asleep; Roger let out a choked laugh, and the four boys distangled themselves from each other.  
“How about this, Rog,” Freddie nodded to Brian and John, “Deaky and Brimi here go make us some tea, while I help you get cleaned up?” Roger nodded, and Brian and John got to their feet, giving Roger pats on the shoulder as they went to the kitchen to start the tea. Meanwhile, Freddie took Roger to their tiny little bathroom, and with almost a motherly touch, gently cleaned the injuries on Roger’s face and hands. He flinched a couple times, but otherwise said nothing, and when Freddie was done, he cradled Roger’s face in his hands, forcing him to make eye contact.  
“Okay?” Freddie asked softly.  
Roger wanted to look away, but he just searched Freddie’s face, wondering how he had gotten so lucky. He gave a small smile, small but real.  
“Yeah.” Roger whispered.  
“It’s okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3 Come hang out with me on Instagram @myfairyqueenie or Tumblr @my-fairy-queenie :-)


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